


Tradition, Alive

by mautadite



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Holidays, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8890525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mautadite/pseuds/mautadite
Summary: There are faint recollections that sometimes roil at the back of Riley's mind (steaming cups of burnt cocoa, her mother’s voice all sweet and birdlike, old cards with snow-scapes and time-worn ‘wishing you were here’ messages).(Six months post-game.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unchartedelissa (elissanerdwriter)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elissanerdwriter/gifts).



The old-timers are singing while they work, stomping their boots on the beat and dragging their prizes through the snow, their craggy voices lifting far above the wind. A few miles back, Riley hadn’t known the song, but now the hook is pulling insistently at her breath, a hum rising in her throat and escaping as crisp tufts of air. Even Maria is singing, the no-nonsense mask temporarily dropped as she walks next to her father. Fir sliding on frost makes a pretty good accompaniment as they make their way back to town, pine needles and a light snowfall raining down on their hooded heads.

Riley keeps near the front of the procession with her haul (seven fat rabbits and two scrawny ones; pretty good for an afternoon’s work) and she’s the first to see the lights of the settlement. She kicks up her gait, skids down the last few inclines. The kids have been hard at work it seems like; there are fairy lights strung up around the biggest buildings, and Darryl’s apparently made good on his threat to hang mistletoe in every available archway. They’d passed by the plant on the way back, and even there she spied a few garlands and decorations.

To Riley, it doesn’t really feel any different; holidays weren’t much of a priority, back in the zone, and her parents had both been atheist-leaning agnostics. There are faint recollections that sometimes roil at the back of her mind (steaming cups of burnt cocoa, her mother’s voice all sweet and birdlike, old cards with snow-scapes and time-worn _‘wishing you were here’_ messages) but those are more connected with her old life and her love for her parents than the time of the year. Nevertheless, she feels the charge in the air around her, from the ones who are singing, from all the people for whom this must mean something, for whom it brings back memories and pain and joy. She doesn’t have a word for what they’re getting out of this, but the shift in the settlement has been a palpable one.

And it’s strange, to be in the midst of something that is so celebratory and festive, and feel next to nothing for it. But Riley is pretty used to being an outlier, in one way or another.

Maria must have radioed ahead to Mako and Hurly; the gates are already opening up for their party. They groan laboriously and a few of the lights flicker, but hold firm. Some of the guards are already coming forward to help with the trees; Riley bumps fists with Teresa, but keeps moving forward. She’s got to get the rabbits to the kitchens; Jerrica will be waiting for her. She plans all her meals out weeks in advance, and everyone in town knows that when Jerrica is close to her schedule, they’re all closer to peace.

It’s a quick transaction; Riley stays for a few minutes to soak up the warmth of the fires, deliver the details of the hunt and endure a little teasing. Then she’s flipping her hood back over her head and venturing outside, her breath clouding up in front of her. Freshly fallen snow crunches beneath her feet, turning a dark grey that matches the concrete walls all around her. Her destination is already in mind, and she doesn’t have to go very far; within two blocks there’s an arm linking with one of hers.

“Okay, lay it on me,” Ellie says grimly. There’s a tuft of snow on her nose. “How many of my arrows did you waste?”

Riley cocks an eyebrow. “Really? I’m insulted.”

“Soooo… what’s that mean? Five? Ten? Gimme an estimate here.”

Riley bumps her with her hip, and they stumble sideways across the path, giggling. The wind whistles and wraps around them, capturing the sound.

“Check my pack, smartass. I left with fifteen and I’m back with fourteen. And that one only broke because the rabbit ducked behind a rock at the last second.”

“Blaming a defenceless woodland creature now. Classy.”

“Well I mean, it _could_ have been the inferior craftsmanship of the arrow itself…”

“Oh, don’t even go there.”

They’re both laughing as Ellie pulls them behind a shed, and crowds Riley up against to kiss her briefly on the mouth. Riley’s not much taller than her girlfriend, an inch or so at most, but the teensy bit of height advantage is a pretty good asset for teasing, gloating, and this. She lets her fingertips rest on Ellie’s cheek as they kiss, feels them thawing out with the warmth of contact and familiarity.

“Too bad I couldn’t be there to judge your shooting myself,” Ellie comments, rubbing her nose briefly into Riley’s neck. Riley scoffs.

“Right. And whose fault is it that Maria no longer lets us double up on the duty roster?”

“Hey. It takes two hands to clap, Abel.”

“Maybe,” Riley concedes. You got caught making out on duty _one time_ … It hadn’t taken long for Maria to start treating them like the nieces she’d never had (doubly so for Riley, who’s had more time to get to know her) but unfortunately for them, she takes her aunt-ly obligations very seriously.

Or, you know, fortunately. Most days, Riley can’t get over how lucky they are to be alive and with each other, much less here, with a community of good people who look out for each other, who care for each other, who have goals and dreams beyond surviving from one day to the next. Maria is fucking amazing; in a lot of ways, she reminds Riley of Marlene.

Ellie starts tugging her along again. A light snow is still falling, dusting the rooftops and the way forward, covering up the way they’ve come. It’ll be a few hours yet before the sun fully sets, but the dark has started to creep in, and with the faint glow of all the strung up lights, it makes the streets seem unearthly, like something out of a comic book. 

“They get all the trees they wanted?” Ellie asks.

“Yup. Three big ones. I think they’re gonna start putting them up now. You know how Maria can get. And I swear the rest of them are just as excited.”

“Schyeah, you don’t gotta tell me that; Darryl’s literally got a fucking twinkle in both his eyes. Permanently.” 

Riley chortles. “Man, it’s fuckin’ _weird_. But like, sweet, in its own way.”

“Yeah. I mean I can’t judge. You heard what Maria and William said; this is the first time they’re actually making such a big deal out of it. Decking the halls, tis-ing the season.”

It does feel like they’ve got a lot to celebrate. The plant’s been running without complications or hiccoughs or months now, the game has been plentiful, and between Joel, Tommy and Teresa, the bandits seem to be thinking twice before they launch another massive raid. Maybe that’s why everyone’s so excited, even the ones who are too young to remember ever having celebrated the holidays. Joy in little things can be huge.

Ellie’s playing with Riley’s fingers; an absent-minded little thing that she does out of habit, and Riley loves it to pieces. It’s so freaking sappy, but she loves that she’s such a fixture in Ellie’s life and in Ellie’s space that she’ll just reach for her hand in any moment of idleness. Riley always wants to be reaching back. She uses her free hand to rub a brisk caress along Ellie’s scarred arm (covered, always covered; there are some things they can’t share with the community) and bounces back a grin when Ellie smiles.

It’s little moments like this that she missed most when Ellie was gone. Fragments of time where she’d turn to her left but find no one there, and get a pang so hard she felt it in her stomach, and she’d find herself thinking in silly post-card platitudes. _Wish you were here._

Having Ellie’s hand in her own after that is like… like. Fuck. She’s not a poet and she’s not trying to become one, but they haven’t made words for this feeling yet.

“You on the roster again tonight?” Ellie asks, finally threading their fingers and letting their linked hands swing between them.

“Nah. I’m off until tomorrow,” Riley replies.

“Wanna help me with the decorations for the town centre? Yes? Absolutely? You’d love to? Can’t think of a better way to spend a couple hours? Awesome, I knew I could count on you.”

Riley snorts. 

“Who roped you into it?”

“Lost a bet with Darryl. I should have known better than to take the wager, but the fucking twinkle, man. Caught me off guard.”

Riley puts on a face, like she’s pretending to think about it, but by the look Ellie gives her, she’s not even close to buying it. She laughs.

“You’re lucky you’re cute. You better needle Joel into this too; it’ll help to have two people who, you know, break five foot zilch.”

“Har har. Don’t worry, that’s a given; as soon as he and Tommy get back, his ass is getting drafted for the cause.”

“Well, good.”

It’s subtle, the skittering look that Ellie tosses her way, but Riley feels it. It’s the kind of look that she’s aware of getting every once in a while, when she and Joel are mentioned in a same sentence, or when they’re in the same room. It’s not exactly a nervous look; Ellie doesn’t do nervous, not with Riley, not after all this time. It’s more… pensive. Faltering. Riley doesn’t need to ask why.

The thing is, Riley isn’t really sure that she likes Joel. She definitely doesn’t _dislike_ him; it would be hard to, after how many times he’s saved her ass, after all that he’s done for Ellie, carrying her into hell and dragging her right back out. Riley owes Joel a lot, there’s no bones about that, and she’ll do whatever she can to pay it back. He’s an old man, and like a lot of them, he’s known too much loss and just enough love to make it hurt like hell for having slipped away.

It’s just that… sometimes, Riley feels like there’s some kind of friction between them; one that neither of them agreed to or instigated. It’s just there. And the source… well, that’s a no-brainer. A red-headed, freckled, foul-mouthed bright light of a no-brainer.

It would be different, maybe, if she’d gotten a chance to know him like Ellie had, but that’s just another ‘what if’ for the giant pile that circumvents her life and every twisted happenstance in it. What if Ellie had never been bitten? What if _Riley_ had been bitten in her place? What if Riley had never tailed Tess back to the north tunnel (god, the way Ellie’s eyes had lit up when she saw her, the way they’d pelted into each other’s arms; Riley will hold on to that feeling until she’s grey and dying) and demanded to be smuggled out of the city with Ellie? What if they could have done something to help Tess, or Sam, or Henry? What if Riley hadn’t taken that gutshot during the bandit raid on the power plant, forcing her to stay behind while Ellie and Joel made the last few legs of the journey on their own? What if she’d been there in Salt Lake City to see what really happened?

‘What really happened’ is still up in the air. Ellie remembers passing out in a flood and then waking up in the backseat of a pickup. Everything in between, Joel filled in for them both. Marlene, reported dead by the other fireflies. The hospital, all but abandoned. A cure, impossible. It’s what Joel had told them both, and Riley had been prepared to accept it without question, before Ellie came to her with her faint, but persistent doubts.

And now, they have this. An uncomfortable limbo. A truth waiting to be stared in the face, if only they could suss out what that truth actually is. Riley owes Joel many things, and perhaps she owes him for Ellie’s life in more ways than she had expected. But she would have thought that he’d have felt obligated to be truthful with them, with Ellie at least, who’s grown closer to him then Riley would have ever expected. It’d have to be pried out of him with metal claws for him to say it with words, but he loves Ellie like a daughter.

It’s a truth that will have to come out, some way, some day. They won’t stay in Wyoming forever, and Riley isn’t done mourning Marlene, the woman she had known so little but admired so much.

But right now, she has Ellie’s hand in her own, and the snow falling in little flurries all around them. She’s surrounded by people she can call friends and adults who aren’t shitty. There’s someone singing, a few streets over, and in a nearby window, someone is lighting another candle.

It’s enough.

Ellie’s looking at the sky; Riley glances up for a second as well, but finds her eyes trailing back to her best friend in the whole world, as they always do. Riley knows this because she’s lived it, but she also sees it in the line of her jaw, her bright eyes, her sloping mouth; Ellie is strong. Without her, Riley would have never made it out of Boston, out of Pittsburgh, to this place. That in itself is enough to Riley to be thankful for, celebrate, everything. The song that they sung on the way back from the hunt is still doing circles in the back of her mind.

She doesn’t need to ask where they’re going. Ellie leads her up past the stables and the kennels, across the sloggy streets, up to the old watchtower. It’s no longer manned, abandoned for newer constructs with more defensible positions, but most of the architecture holds strong. It’s higher than most of the others, and they have an almost unobstructed view of the settlement from here. It’s all lit up like a scene from an old card.

“Is that the scent of freshly laid bird poop I smell?” Riley asks, folding to her knees on the wooden floor.

“Never say I don’t know how to keep romance alive,” Ellie says, and flops down neatly next to her.

“If this is what romance looks like when it’s alive, I’d hate to see chivalry.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Riley giggles, and blows a little raspberry onto Ellie’s cheek. They link arms, looking out at the bright lights and dark corners of the little town they’ve come to call their own. Not too far in the distance, in the middle of the square, they can see a team of men and women working to pull the first of the Christmas trees to a stand. Riley feels little for it, not even when it stands erect and the little crowd throws up a cheer, but she has a world of affection for everything it represents to this town.

She glances across at Ellie, and tugs her closer with an arm across her shoulders. Ellie tucks her head against Riley’s neck, and they’re warm, and close, and everything they could hope to be. It feels like a moment where something should be said, but Riley has never known what to do with platitudes, doesn’t like the foreign sound of them on her tongue.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says anyway, and feels her heart tug at all the love in Ellie’s laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s strange, but very intriguing to think about a world where Riley lives but Ellie and Joel still go on their journey... just personality-wise, so many things could change, so many could stay the same, with Ellie having more than one person to lean on. 
> 
> To my recip: happy yuletide! :) I adore these girls and this ship, so I was thrilled to deliver. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
